


Two Roads Diverged

by Myadog3



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, If you want your smut youll have to work for it, Porn With Plot, Smut, Yeah they fck keep scrollin (jk pls validate me), Young!ARTHUR, jk i tag which chapters have the business going down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myadog3/pseuds/Myadog3
Summary: A story about two kids fooling around in the woods who later become two very confused adults who are trying to get back to fooling around in the woods again.Tells the story of Maeve Mondragon and Arthur Morgan.Switches from 1884 to 1899





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic in like five years. I'm shook by one sexy bad self-esteem cowboy.

*1899*

“Hold on son we’re almost there.” Hosea shook Arthur awake. 

It was never supposed to turn out like this. Just a simple hunt with a high-powered gun. The bear had barreled down on them faster than anyone could have expected. Arthur had shoved Hosea out of the way and got a few shots off. Hosea heard a roar as he fumbled to cock the rifle. When he turned from behind the rock he knew it was bad. With a mighty crack that shook the small canyon, the rifle fired. 

Arthur lay on the ground groaning. There was blood soaking through his clothes. Hosea had whistled for the horses and burned dust all the way to Valentine. Night had fallen and no one in Valentine stirred. He fired a shot into the air as he made it to the medicine store. 

“Goddamnit, we need a medic out here! A man’s been hurt.” He yelled, his voice cracking from the volume. He dismounted and saw candlelight flicker inside the building. He kicked and pounded on the door. He heard shuffling in the building 

“Hurry up you bastard he’s dying!” 

The door unbolted with a heavy thud. A woman with long dark hair in disarray stood in the foyer. 

“Maeve?” Hosea questioned. 

“Hosea?” The woman looked from him to the man on the horse who had slumped over in the saddle. “Arthur?” She gathered her shawl around her and ran to the horse.

 

\-------------

 

*1884*

 

“It’s your fucking fault we got sent on this bullshit trip anyway, if you hadn’t squealed like that before I figured something out we could have been fine.” Maeve snarked. 

Arthur scoffed. “So you don’t think that stunt you pulled abandoning Bill like that had anything to do with it?” 

“At least I found some loot! Unlike you!” She yelled back. “With the money I coulda made from pawning that silver we might’ve made Bill’s bail and then some!”

“If you don’t shut the hell up you’re gonna scare away anything that we might get!” Arthur hissed. They fell into an angry silence. 

They had recently tried to rob a rich tobacco merchant’s apartment. She was supposed to pose as a maid and let Arthur and Bill in through the back door. The merchant had come home far earlier than anyone expected, leaving them to find a way out of the house before they got caught. Maeve had jumped out a window and Arthur had kicked the front door open. Bill had been left in the master bedroom with the safe and gotten arrested for attempted robbery. Upon returning to camp Arthur had spilled his guts to Dutch. As a result, they had both gotten the scolding of a lifetime from Dutch and Hosea. Luckily, Dutch knew the guard rotation at the jail Bill was being held in. While the rest of the gang rode to free Bill, Arthur and Maeve had been tasked to hunt and fish for food for Peterson. For the entire month. They had been given the oldest horse in the camp to haul the essentials. It was ancient, bony, and weak. It could maybe carry one of them at a time. The hunting trip was already off to a terrible start. And, it didn’t help matters that they absolutely hated each other…

She hated him for being the golden “holier-than-thou” kid at camp. Dutch and Hosea trusted him with everything. Every plan, every take, everything was shared with him. She figured he was only a few years older than her. Not even a man yet. But acting like one, despite the fact that he didn’t even have hair on his chin. She was just as useful to the gang as him, if not more. After all, she was a young girl, not at all threatening or intrusive. She had the ability to be around without being noticed, to hear things people said when they didn’t think they were being listened to. To add the look of a normal family to something that could easily be seen as an outlaw gang. Plus, the only reason they even knew of the safe in the merchant’s house was because she had dropped her hat when she and Hosea had been in town to buy medicine. She had overheard the tobacco merchant say something about a safe and chucked her bonnet into the mud, allowing her time to eavesdrop on the conversation while she retrieved and cleaned it. She couldn’t stand Arthur. He acted like he knew more, shot better, outrode, and out-earned her. At the very least he wasn’t bad to look at. Hell, in a couple of years he might even pass for handsome.

He absolutely hated her. Dutch had collected her off the street of Peterburg after she had pickpocketed Uncle, and moved on to him. She was an ugly, scrawny, little thing that he had begged Dutch to leave behind. Dutch had other plans, she had useful information regarding Saint-Denis. After she had helped them bleed Petersburg dry, they had kept her. She had been milling around the camp for the years following that. Helping with the odds and ends that she could. Over time, she had grown to be the apple of Hosea’s eye. He had taught her to read, to hunt, to shoot. It was disgusting. She didn’t earn her keep in the gang in his opinion. There was no reason for Hosea to be so kind to her when she gave so little in return. Helpful tips and chores were chump change compared to the money he brought in. Despite this, Hosea treated her like the daughter he never had, even though Arthur was more useful to the camp than she ever was. She always looked down her nose at him, acted like she knew more, was a better marksman, was better at riding than he was. Luckily for her, she didn’t still look like the grungy urchin they had found on the streets, she wasn’t horrible to look at in the very least… 

They trudged through the underbrush in an angry silence. The sky was starting to darken. He gestured for her to stop. She tossed Smokey’s reins over a stuck out branch. They had come to the edge of the woods. Near the river, a doe was feeding on the reeds. He drew the rifle and paced ever closer. The churning of the river masked the noise of his movements through the high grass. He moved his finger to the trigger. All of a sudden there was a rough tug back on his jacket and he pulled the trigger. He stumbled back into the woods. The bullet shot into the air, hitting nothing. The doe, startled by the sound, leapt across the river and disappeared into the brush. He turned, livid, to Maeve. 

“What the hell are you thinki-“ She turned to point him at the ground. He saw a snake slither into the water near where his leading foot had been. 

“A good hunter is aware of his surroundings at all times.” She stated. She was echoing the motto Hosea had hammered into their heads since the first time they went hunting with him.  
Arthur flushed with embarrassment. 

“Yeah, and a good hunter also makes sure their group is fed.” He said, flustered. She shrugged. 

“Either way we better make camp here tonight, there’s no way I’ll crash through the woods in the dead of night saving you from more snakes. We can fish for dinner and then start again in the morning.” 

“I was unaware that you were the commander of this little expedition.” He said through gritted teeth. 

“I would think that since I’m a whole hell of a lot more observant than you I should be.” She said.

“And yet I’m the one with the rifle.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged her pack off. 

“Well. That’s what I’ll be doing tonight, you can do whatever you want Mr. Gunman.” They set up camp in silence. Keeping as far away from each other as they could. They had to work together but that didn’t mean that they had to like it. He started the fire as she sat on the bank fishing. As he was boiling water to drink, she pulled in three trout. She gutted and cleaned them in the river before cooking them over the fire. She passed two of the fish to him. It was her quiet voice that broke the long silence. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” Arthur met her gaze across the burning coals. He looked back into the fire. 

“I suppose I don’t think what you do helps the gang out that much.” 

She frowned. “We wouldn’t have pulled in near as much money as we do without some of my tips, plus I make sure everyone has food to eat and clothes to wear while they’re out making said money.”

“Hey, you asked.” He said and tossed the fish bones in the fire and laid down on his bedroll.

 

\-------------

*1899*

 

It took the full effort of her and Hosea to pull Arthur down off the horse and get him inside the building. They dropped him on a couch. She started pulling bandages, cotton, and silver instruments from all manner of cupboards. 

“Start removing the clothing from the wounds.” She instructed Hosea as she threw a poker into the coals of a sputtering fire. 

“You’re the doctor here?” He asked, hurriedly throwing the shreds of Arthurs clothes into a pile.

“No.” She said as she cut the lid off of a bottle of alcohol and soaked a towel in it. “The doctor’s gone, he’s at a conference in Rhodes. He should be back tomorrow, but I don’t think Arthur will make it till then.” 

Hosea looked at Arthur who was pale, and dangerously so. She started wiping down all the instruments with the alcohol-soaked rag. She poured the remaining alcohol over Arthurs exposed wounds and he flinched and groaned weakly. She grabbed the poker out of the fire and returned to them. 

“Well, let’s hope you know enough.” Hosea said as he looked at her. She looked quite a sight. She was standing over Arthur with a red hot poker and a fearful gleam in her eyes.

“Yes, let’s.” She pressed the point of the poker into the gouge in Arthur’s shoulder and he screamed.

 

\-------------

 

*1884*

“Get up.” Arthur said as he shook her shoulder. 

Maeve sighed and rolled over. “I can’t believe its dawn already.” She muttered with an arm over her eyes. 

“It’s not, it’s almost noon. We overslept and we have to get going.” Arthur said. Shock jolted any remaining drowsiness from her and she jumped up and started grabbing her things. 

“Noon?!? Why didn’t you wake me?” She said. 

“Because I didn’t know what time it was either until I woke up five minutes ago!”   
She groaned.   
“I guess morning comes a lot later when Mrs. Grimshaw doesn’t wake you up at the crooning of the crow with a wooden switch to the foot.” 

Despite their late start, they made good time. They were still headed deeper into the woods in the hopes of coming across an unsuspecting deer. It was late in the afternoon when they stopped for a water break in a shaded area. 

“You know, I’m sorry for what I said last night.” Arthur said. She was startled that he had broken the hours of silence for that. “I was pissed off at missing that deer, at the whole situation really.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re not all that bad. You know your stuff at least. And you don’t snore AS much as Bill or Pearson.” He said calmly.

Was that a joke? She looked up at him to see. He looked expectantly at her.   
“Was that a joke Arthur Morgan?”

“I guess it wasn’t a very good one then huh?” He asked. 

“No no, it was a great joke. Any joke at the expense of Bill or Pearson I’m all for. I just wasn’t expecting it. Especially from you” She finally chuckled and he seemed to relax a little. She didn’t know he was capable of being funny. He always seemed gruff and stoic. 

“Plus, you’re a whole hell of a sight prettier than them.” He chuckled. 

Her laughter stopped and she looked at him, making a strange inquiring face.  
“Was that also a jo-“ She began.

“Aw forget it, let’s keep going.” He moved off the fell tree he was sitting on and turned onto the game trail. She was caught so unawares by the whole interaction. It was because of her confusion, that she missed the blush that had reddened his cheeks.

 

\-------------

*1899*

 

“We’ve done all we can. The rest is up to him.” Maeve said as she collapsed into the chair besides the couch. Dawn was creeping up and the sky had turned from black to a faint purple-blue. She had worked on sealing, stitching, and binding all of Arthur’s wounds for the past few hours. Hosea had even given blood for a transfusion. All three were covered in Arthur’s blood. Hosea sat in the chair opposite her holding a bandage to the cut on his arm. They watched as Arthur’s chest rose and fell slowly. 

“What now?” She asked. 

“If you don’t mind my dear, I believe some rest is in order. For all of us. Is there somewhere an old man like me might rest his tired bones?” She gave a weary laugh. She had forgotten Hosea’s always proper, always respectful, way of speaking. It was a stark contrast to the life the man led. She got up and gestured to the stairs.   
“You can sleep in Nathan’s bed if you like, he isn’t here so I doubt he’ll miss it.” Hosea followed her up to the landing. She led him into a room with a large bed and pulled some clothes out of a closet. “These are for if you decide you want to make yourself more presentable at some point.” She set the clothes on the dresser by the foot of the bed. She turned to leave for the room across the hall. 

“May I inquire as to who the mysterious doctor Nathan is?” Hosea asked. She stopped in the doorway and turned back to him with a sad smile. 

“Usually, the doctor for Valentine. Most recently? My fiancé. Rest well Hosea.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here there be romance brewing

1884

 

“Hell yes! Good shot!” Maeve exclaimed as the buck fell beyond the tree line.   
They trampled through the forest until they met the body of the deer. Steam was rising out of the bullet hole in its neck. A clean kill through the spinal column. The deer was dead before it even hit the ground. 

“Well hurry and skin it before it rots.” Arthur said with a huge grin on his face. He stowed the rifle across his back. Maeve stood lamely over the deer, her hand over the hilt of her knife.

“I umm, I don’t know how.” She admitted. Arthur whistled low. 

“So you’re tellin’ me Mrs. High and Mighty, Mrs. Fishing Virtuoso, ain’t ever skinned a deer in her life?”

“Whenever we went hunting Hosea would skin it. I usually started setting up camp while he skinned…” She said. She was blushing, clearly embarrassed. 

“No better time to learn than now. Come here.” He said. They kneeled down by the deer and she held her knife to him. Instead of taking it from her he took her by the wrist firmly and guided her hand to the deer. 

“You want to start the cut here. Watch, get closer so I can show you how to hold the skin.” She kneeled in front of him and by the deer. His arms came around her and took her hands. She could feel his breath on her neck. He was so close to her she could feel the rumbling of his words as he spoke. 

She felt a strange stirring as her heart rate increased. It was like the adrenaline during the hunt, but for a different reason. She felt warm. Too warm. She was acutely aware of where precisely his hands held onto the back of hers. 

“Are you listening to me?” He scoffed.   
She shook herself out of the trance. 

“Yeah start right here.” She stuck the knife into the buck’s neck. He guided her hands between the deer skin and flesh. She tried to focus on the task, and definitely not on how the heat of his breath moved the hairs on the back of her neck. Despite its warmth, it sent shivers down her spine. She wondered if it was really necessary to hold her like this to show her. She couldn’t imagine Hosea teaching him like this. In fact, she had never seen anyone teach someone how to skin a deer by sitting behind them and guiding their hands. It’s not like it took that much mental power to figure out what to do. So why had he opted for this teaching method?

“Yeahhhhh that’s it, then you fold that bit over and you can remove the rest of the meat. I know you know how to do that. I’ll start setting up camp so we can cook it so it’ll last on the way back.”

She let out a breath as he moved away from her to start the fire. It was easier to remember what Hosea had taught her when he was off doing his thing. Much easier than when his hands gently guided her movements. The calluses on his fingers brushing against her knuckles. She peeked over her shoulder. 

She found herself admiring the curve he set his jaw at as he messed with the kindling. She noticed the errant strands of hair that fell around his face, and how he bit his lip as he held the match to the small bundle of brush. She felt that same foreign feeling as it bubbled up again. He grinned as the flames started jumping around the wood. He looked up at her and she flushed and looked away. 

“Can I help you with something?” He asked, feigning annoyance.   
She looked back at him to make sure he saw her roll her eyes at him. 

“Just wondering what was taking so long was all.” She set back to her task as he shook his head. She better get those thoughts the hell out of her mind if she was going to make it all the way back to camp with him. She was noticing that he was decidedly less awful than she had always felt.

 

 

\-------------

*1899*

“Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my house?” 

The yelling coming from downstairs startled her awake. Maeve lifted herself off of the sheets, realizing she had fallen asleep on top of the covers. She rushed down to the living room where the shouting originated. 

“Maeve?” Hosea and Nathan said in unison as she appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Hosea had his revolver pointed at Nathan who was aiming a loaded rifle at Hosea. 

“Will you kindly explain what the hell is going on here?” Nathan said, gesturing to Hosea who was wearing his clothing, to her, standing in a stained nightdress, and to Arthur, who was sitting up on the thoroughly bloodied couch, clutching his side and groaning. 

“Nathan these men came last night, one of them had been attacked by a bear.” She quickly explained. She moved closer, trying to put herself between Nathan’s gun and his current targets. 

“You let strange men into this house at night? When you were alone?” Nathan asked. She knew how Nathan’s mind worked. He was already two seconds away from pulling the trigger. She had seen him shoot a man who refused to identify himself at the door once. As long as there were no witnesses to speak up, the law couldn’t prove it wasn’t self-defense. She tried to move towards him, slowly. Much like an animal, he might startle at the slightest disturbance and shoot Hosea.

“I-I know them, they’re trustworthy, I knew them from before I-“ She covered her mouth with her hand. In her haste to explain why they should be trusted she let slip the one thing that would ensure Nathan’s rage.

“Before? You knew them from before? You let outlaws and ruffians into my house?” Nathan yelled and cocked the gun he was pointing at Hosea. 

“Don’t! Nathan, they’re good men, b-better than most. He’s injured, Nathan please, I was just trying to help them.” Maeve begged as she approached slowly, her hand outstretched. 

“You trying to get the law’s attention on me woman? Get the fuck out! The two of you! Get out now or I’ll shoot!” Nathan yelled, his face turning red in rage. A low mumbling came from the couch. 

“What was that?” Nathan said and whipped around and pointed the gun at Arthur. 

“Nathan don’t!” Maeve yelled. 

“Woman don’t you dare raise your voice to me. I’ll handle this. Now, what did you SAY?” He roared at Arthur. 

“I said.” Arthur’s voice was stronger now and he met Nathan’s eyes. “That you better watch how you talk to that ‘woman.”’ In a split second the butt of Hosea’s pistol connected with the back of Nathan’s head and he crumpled to the ground. Hosea kicked the rifle away from him. Maeve gasped and ran to where he had collapsed.   
Arthur slumped back down on the couch.   
“Thanks Hosea. I figured you’d get the hint.” He said. Maeve knelt by Nathan and placed her hand on his neck, checking for a pulse. Hosea touched her wrist gently and she pulled away, realizing that he was touching the fading purple bruises on her arms. 

“My dear.” Hosea started as she pulled the bloodied sleeves of her nightdress down over her arms again. “Would you like to explain what is going on here?”


	3. Chapter 3 (the one where they bang, almost)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> >:3c u kno they be looking for any excuse to get close to each other.

1884

They were gorging themselves on the deer. The sun had fallen while they set up camp and cooked. Their spirits had been greatly improved after killing the buck. There was no way that they wouldn’t get themselves out of trouble with all the meat that they had gathered. Taking down a buck of that size was a feat, even for Hosea. Arthur was carving a tiny bit of antler with his knife and she worked on storing the fruits of their labor. 

“Think we can make it back with all this?” Maeve gestured to the pile of meat they had cooked and wrapped in paper. They were sitting next to each other by the fire. Slicing off pieces of the roast they had saved for themselves. 

“We won’t make it back with ALL that if you keep eating like you are.” Arthur said. She feigned injury by placing a hand over her heart as if he had wounded her, then laughed it off. 

“Hey, take this.” He said, handing her the piece of antler he had carved. She took it and tilted it to the fire to see. It was small, the size of her thumb perhaps. There were wavy lines and crisscrosses that she couldn’t quite make sense of. 

“Umm, what exactly is this?” She asked. He looked at her hoping she was joking with him. When she remained silent he blushed and took it from her again.

“It’s supposed to be a snake.” She held her hand out again expectantly.  
“You sure you want it? You can’t even tell what it is…” He asked her. He seemed very embarrassed about her not being able to decipher his errant carvings. She nodded again, insistently. 

“I shall consider it a trophy from our hunt, legible snake or no.” She insisted. He placed it back into her palm. 

“I suppose you’re the snake expert anyway.” She looked at him quizzically. He lifted his voice as many octaves as it would go. 

“Arthur look out! There’s a snake of indeterminate danger level in the underbrush! Never mind about the deer that we need in order to return to camp!” 

“Now that, Arthur Morgan, that is a joke.” She laughed and elbowed him. She doubled in her laughter when she realized her bump had emptied half of the water from his cup into his lap. He looked very pissed off. Her face fell, thinking he may yell at her, until he splashed the rest of the water onto her. She gasped as if she had been dunked into a whole tub of ice. Then they both started laughing all over again. She dove across his lap to reach for his canteen in the hopes of emptying the rest of it over his head.

“Oh no you don’t!” He said and grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away from it. She wriggled out of his grasp. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her through the grass to him as he reached for the canteen. She shoved it out of his hand and crawled over him, brushing her fingers against the metal. They were laughing the whole time they wrestled for possession of the canteen on the ground. She flipped on top of him and begun unscrewing the lid of his canteen. 

“Boy are you about to get it.” She threatened as she began tipping the canteen over him. He very quickly grabbed her hips and flipped her onto the ground. The canteen was jostled from her hands as he pinned her arms with his hands, his knees were outside hers, trapping her. She had stopped laughing. They were both panting. She was aware of who would have the upper hand had they been fighting for real... He was no longer smiling. 

His face was illuminated by the campfire. She could see errant strands of hair moving with his every breath. She could hear the canteen water bubbling out onto the ground back behind her head. She could feel each point of contact between them. That stirring from earlier was immediately back, more potent than ever. Despite her past hatred and annoyance with him… She found herself desperately wanting to kiss him. He released her arms. Instead of moving away, however, he leaned down on his elbows above her. 

“Arthur?” She asked. She made no action to remove herself from underneath him. He looked from her eyes down to her lips. She slowly moved her hands to his hips which were slightly above her own, testing the waters. He didn’t flinch away from her fingers, which she took as a good sign. She pulled him to her. He sighed and shut his eyes briefly. She could feel him pressing into her. The stirring from before had been stoked into a fire, and she wanted to be consumed by it. Even with the many layers of clothing between them, she could feel the heat radiating from him. Each breath she took brushed her chest against his. She looked into his eyes and her mouth opened slightly. 

“Arthur.” She whispered, there was a slight pleading in her voice. She watched as time slowed around them and he closed the distance between them. The first brush of his lips against hers seemed almost accidental. The sensation was barely perceptible. And yet, her eyes fluttered closed. She lifted one of her arms up his back and threaded her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. He groaned and kissed her harder. His right hand moved to her head and he tilted her up to his mouth. She let her tongue slip out of her mouth where it met his. They moved against each other. The friction from between them was maddening, she wanted more. His teeth bit into her tongue briefly and she whimpered and bunched the hand that was in his hair into a fist. His hips jerked against hers involuntarily. Her head fell back. He was breathing hard, she felt him move against her as he breathed, rolling slowly into her. She urged his hips to hers again. And again. And again. She moved her legs around him, arching towards him as her finger twisted into one of his belt loops. She pulled him roughly into her, her free hand sliding over his back and then to his chest and back to his hips again. He rolled his hips to hers, they both followed the same, languid pace. The same infuriating, maddening pace. She nuzzled her head into him and whispered. 

“Faster. Please.” That level of pleading in her voice he did not expect. He had never taken her to be the desperate sort, especially for him. He had caught a glimpse of her hair mussed in the dirt and the spark of desire in her eyes and couldn’t resist. He made a groaning sort of noise in her ear and slid the hand on her neck down her body. He hooked his hand up under her knee and pulled her close to him. They were pressed together at the closest they possibly could be. 

She could feel him hard against her. She wanted him, so badly. She needed him, needed this from him. He finally, finally sped up. They were both breathing hard as he ground his hips into hers. She felt something blossom where they met and moved more fervently. She felt him grin into her neck. 

He wondered if she noticed the little gasps she made with each buck of his hips. Wondered if she knew how mad it was making him. Each noise she made was because of him, for him. He bit her neck and she yelped out of pain… At first. The soothing sweep of his tongue over the mark made the bite tinge pleasantly.

“Arthur.” She moaned loudly into the night air. He pressed a kiss into her neck, the pain from the bite ebbing. She dug her nails into his hip and tightened her legs around him. She arched as best she could. The friction, maddening, but not enough, she wanted all of him. The thought of removing their clothes flickered briefly in and out of her mind. She was too busy chasing the growing feeling between her legs to bring it up to him. Especially as he continued to gasp and sigh and make those noises into her ear.

He whispered into her ear, nearly imperceptible: “I’m almost-” He cut himself off to scrape his teeth against her neck again. She held him as tightly as she could. The thought of him, coming from just this, just them rutting desperately together on the ground, brought her right there with him. The pace of his thrusts became erratic, she could no longer keep his rhythm but rather arch into him with everything she had. Dig her nails into his hips. Pull his hair caught in her fingers. She was gasping, loudly now, with each movement. “Arthur I-I-“ 

A branch snapped in the woods and the spell was broken. They startled apart, detangling their limbs from one another, straightening themselves. He leapt to the rifle, aiming for the trees. She crawled for her knife. An owl took off hooting from the tree, startled by the sudden movement. 

“It was just an owl, it broke the branch off the tree.” She said, breathing heavy. She dropped her knife back to the ground. The absence of his body on hers made her aware of the coolness of the night and she wrapped her arms around herself. He stood silent, not looking at her, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to control his breath.  
“Arthur?” She asked softly, questioning.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” He said emotionless. Her heart fell. The wild passion that she had felt with him earlier was snuffed out by those mere five words.

“Oh.” She smoothed her hair out where it had been pressed into the ground. She glanced around the campsite.

“I’m sorry.” She offered weakly. She brushed the dirt off herself and lifted his canteen and returned the cap to it. 

She didn’t meet his eyes as she took the remaining deer off of the cooking spike and wrapped it in the wax paper. Her stomach was filled with dread. Would he tell Hosea and Dutch? Would she be kicked out of the gang for this? Was there some unspoken rule they had violated by what they had done? Had almost done? She stored all the meat in the horse’s saddlebags. When she returned to their little camp, the fire had died down to coals. Arthur was in his bedroll, facing away from her. She was so terribly anxious. She didn’t know what the next day would bring, would it be more of the same? Or would he be even more angry with her now? Even with all her fears floating around her head, she could still feel the bite on her neck tinging and the wetness between her legs. Surely, he wouldn’t have done that with her if he didn’t want to? She crawled into her bedroll. Her fingers brushed against the bite and she wondered what would have happened if not for that damned bird…

\-------------

1899

She was pulling things out of drawers and shoving them into the bag haphazardly. Nathan was still collapsed on the floor. Dead or alive he didn’t seem to have any intention of waking soon. Hosea was wrapping Arthur in the remains of his jacket. 

“So I’ll ask again, are you going to explain this my dear?” Hosea asked as he gestured around the room. She knew he also was asking what had happened back in Sweetwater all those years ago, as well why she was here now.

“I got caught. That’s all there is to it. They took me to the jail, I got sentenced. They went easy on me on account of my womanhood and all and I got sentenced to payin double what we had stole. Course, I couldn’t pay it, so they sold me into something called ‘indentured servitude’ with Nathan. I was to work for him while all my wages went to payin off my sentence. Ten years later my time was up. But I had nowhere to go, nothing to do, no money. You guys were dust in the wind by then. I couldn’t find you, though I tried. I ended up coming back here after running on my own for a bit. I knew that I knew what I was doing as far as assisting goes, so I helped him. About four years back he proposed. I told him I wouldn’t marry him until he had a house, so he’s been working to buy something down in Strawberry for a while now. That’s why he was gone, he finally had what he thought was enough to snag something down there. He’s probably back now to tell me the ‘good news’. Grab any medicine you can find in those cabinets.” She said.  
Hosea nodded and grabbed Nathan’s side bag from him, emptying all the papers out onto the floor. Maeve dashed up the stairs and retrieved a medium sized locked chest from one of the rooms. 

“And the bruises?” Arthur questioned when she had returned. She looked at him, attempting to omit any emotion from crossing her face. She realized it was the first thing he had said to her in near fifteen years. She looked away from him. His face was so different from the one she had once known. The years had etched lines into his face, tan into his skin, and what seemed like sadness into his eyes. 

“Well, fifteen years is a long time to wait for something. Sometimes he’d get drunk, and then get sick of waiting.” Arthur looked at Hosea who shook his head. She walked over to the body passed out on the ground. She flipped him over and began rifling through his jacket pockets. She withdrew a key from the inner lining of one and returned to the locked box. She opened the lid and began shoving the contents of the box into her bag. She finally slowed and gingerly lifted a long-barreled revolver out of the box. She loaded it carefully, then tossed the box of remaining bullets into her bag. She closed the gun and cocked the hammer. Hosea was helping Arthur off of the couch and towards the door. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it over the back of Nathan’s head. 

“What are you do-“ She fired a semi-silent shot from the pistol into the back of Nathan’s head and Hosea startled. Blood began to soak through the pillow and onto the floor. 

“Let’s go.” She said. 

If anyone would have seen them they would have looked quite a sight. There was an old man helping a bloody and bandaged compatriot up onto a horse. A woman in a stained nightdress saddled her own mount. They were lucky the doctor’s office was near the end of town. If anyone had seen them, they wouldn’t be able to decipher anything out of the ordinary from that distance. Well, nothing asides from how fast the three tore out of Valentine…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Arthur doesn't get off Part 1.


	4. Chapter 4 (the one where they bang)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, communication is key...

1884

The camp was packed at dawn the next day. The angry silence that was with them for the first part of the trip had been altered into a very strained and uneasy one. She would often glance over at him, hoping to catch his eyes to glean something, anything from them. She hoped the mark on her neck would fade before they got back to camp so she wouldn’t have to explain anything to anyone…

They walked on opposite sides of the horse. She wondered if this was to minimize the chances of their hands brushing into each other or their shoulders bumping while they walked. All she could think about was what had happened last night by the campfire. How his hands felt against her, how his mouth felt on her neck, how his… Anyway… Why had they gotten so close to, well, something, before he realized they couldn’t?

While they stopped for water she realized they must be nearing where they had seen the first deer. One could hear the river water rushing somewhere near. She felt him looking at her and looked up from her canteen to meet his eyes. He held her gaze long enough to let her know, that he knew that she had caught him looking. Every one of his actions so far had confounded her. They pressed on.

The river was higher than it had been when they had first crossed it. There must have been rainfall somewhere upstream. They looked from the river back to the horse, wondering if he would be able to make it across carrying all the meat. It was either cross here or lose time looking for a better place to cross. Arthur took the rifle and bedding from the back of the horse. The meat had been wrapped in wax paper and stored in the saddlebags so it should survive the water. Arthur began wading into the water, once it was waist deep he lifted the gun and the bedding high, staving off any stray splashing from soaking in. Maeve took the reins to the horse and tugged him into the river. 

The water was running fast and deep just below the surface. She could feel its pull on her and fought to stay upright in the current. Dusk had fallen and the bugs had started dancing over the surface of the river. She swatted a large one out from in front of her face. She could see that Arthur had just made it to the bank opposite and was laying down the bedding and rifle. She was just about to yell out to him to pull the horse in when the horse collapsed into her side. The force of the water was too much for it. It had keeled into her while it struggled to find sure footing. The force it had hit her with had forced her to let out a gasp of air. The next breath she took in was cold river water. Panic set in. She clutched out in the murk for the saddlebags and managed to get a hold on one. She could feel the water begin to pull them downstream. If she couldn’t get up to the surface soon, she surely would crash into a rock or pass out from all the water in her lungs. She felt the horse lurch to the side. She felt gravel scrape on her knees and kicked up against it. Her head broke the surface and she flailed to the shore. Arthur was hauling the horse in with his boots dug deep into the mud. She managed to crawl her way out onto the bank retching up river water. Arthur had gotten the horse out of the water and was inspecting the saddlebags. She wiped her hair back against her head. He seemed satisfied with the condition of the meat.

“The good news is that if we need to cross again, you drank enough of it for us to be safe.” He was looking at her as if he didn’t really grasp the severity of the situation. 

“Are you fucking kidding me Arthur?” She gasped. He dropped his grin immediately, returning back to the frowning stoic cowboy he had been before. 

“Well I’m just sayin’, it’s lucky the food’s fine. We should camp here again.” She got up onto her feet and stomped over him. He raised an eyebrow at her when she reached him. She ripped the bedding out of his arms and wrapped her sleeping bag around her. She sat on the ground, pouting in the cold. He mumbled something as he collected old brambles from the forest. 

“What was that?” She demanded. He dropped all the wood into a pile. 

“I said. Don’t worry about thanking me for hauling you in then.” He was pouting, upset. What right did he have to be upset? She was the one that had damn near drowned! She scoffed. 

“You were too worried about the damn gun to make sure Smokey was making it across anyway!” At this point, she would have been more than happy to return to their tense silence. If ever there was a man more angrily starting a fire she had yet to see it.  
“Oh, you’re thinking this was my fault? Would you have preferred that I escort Madame across the stream?” He grunted. 

“I would prefer you to not get on your high horse for the mere act of pulling Smokey out of the water! Me attached or no!” She yelled back. The spark finally took and the smoke started rising out of the tinder. 

“Fine!” He said. 

“Fine!” She replied. He worked on coaxing the fire into something they could boil water on. He refilled both their canteens. She tried not to let her heart soften towards him again. The wind was doing a good job chilling her which made it easier to turn her heart back into ice. He handed her a cup of water and some of the dried meat. She thought briefly about rejecting it, but then realized the more strength she had to get the hell out of here tomorrow the sooner she would be away from him. She took them from him. He sat down next to her and looked at her. She refused to meet his gaze. He couldn’t flip between aloof to joking to angry to caring and back to angry like that. 

“Your lips are turning blue.” He said after she had finished her food.

“Yeah, that can happen when you’re doused in freezing river water.” He picked up his sleeping pack from the ground and wrapped it around her. They sat there watching the fire while she shivered. 

“You didn’t bring extra clothes or anything?” He asked. 

“Why? Trying to sneak a peek of me changing?” She snapped. She softened her tone when she saw his face. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t expect us to be out here this long.” She said. 

“Come here.” He said opening his arms to her. 

“Oh no. Oh no no no no Mr. Morgan. Don’t think you can pull that after everything.” She huffed and scooted away from him.  
“I’m just trying to get you warmed back up! If you catch sick on me I’ll never hear the end of it from Grimshaw.” 

“Well maybe you should have thought of that before royally pissing me off.” She snapped, staring into the fire as hard as she could hoping she would fade into it and away from him. 

“You’re maddening you know that? It’s like you try your damned hardest to be a pain in my-.” He stopped talking suddenly, startled by something. His fingers brushed against the mark on her neck. She flinched away, not meeting his eyes. 

“Did I-?” He asked, letting his hand drop. 

“Yeah, right before you decided you shouldn’t have! Guess it’s lucky it's only the one then or else we really might’ve been in trouble.” She said, continuing to stare into the fire. They both had finally acknowledged it. It had happened, well, almost. He groaned and ran his hand through his hair. 

“Christ. They’re never going to let me hear the end of it.” She turned from the fire to look at him. 

“That’s what you’re worried about??? Well hell, you didn’t seem to mind that much when we were going at it in the dirt!” She snapped at him. She was warm again; the rage had warmed her. Her anger was threatening to bubble up and out of her eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised. Of course, that’s what he was worried about, catching a little flak from the camp. He blushed so badly that even in the red light coming off from the fire she could tell. 

“No! That’s not -I shouldn’t have-“

“And why shouldn’t you?” She asked. She didn’t give two shits about tact at that moment. If he wanted her to be nice, well, like she had said, he shouldn’t have pissed her off. She wanted answers. Wanted to see what sort of excuses he would come up with to try and cover up the fact that hey, he didn’t want her. 

“Because. Because I, damn, well, I felt that I was taking advantage of you. That’s the first time we had ever been alone and we had just got that deer. I thought maybe you didn’t want to-you know- and were just humoring me.” 

She stared at him, there were no words for what she was feeling, although livid seemed to come pretty close. She punched out with the sleeping bags, hitting him in the arm. 

“Are you kidding? Are you kidding me?” She asked, still hitting him under two layers of the bedding. “You fucking- you stopped because you thought you were taking advantage of me? Why the hell didn’t you ask? Why did you stomp around giving me the silent treatment the whole goddamn day? I thought it was my fault! That you were mad at me! That I had done something wrong! I thought we we’re in for it when we got back to camp, and this whole time it was because you got nervous? Damn you! Damn you Arthur Morgan!” She punctuated her last few words with guarded punches to his arm. He looked sheepishly up to her. 

“So. You’re saying I wasn’t? Taking advantage of you, I mean?” He said softly. She stood up and yelled, some startled birds took to the sky. She threw his sleeping bag into his lap as hard as she could. 

“No!” She yelled and stomped to the other side of the campfire. She tossed her sleeping bag on the ground and climbed into it, facing away from him. 

“So then, do you uh-, I mean, would you want to-“ He started sheepishly. 

“No!!!” She yelled over her shoulder. She hoped he had realized how badly he had messed up. 

So, it had all been turned into something way bigger in both of their heads than it had been. She began mulling it over. That meant there would be no real penalties if they were to actually get to it… It was unfortunate that they would make it back to camp tomorrow. Otherwise, after she had given him some time to wallow in self-pity, she might have taken him up on his offer… 

The air near the river must have been about ten degrees cooler than anywhere else they had stayed. As the night went on, any residual heat from the day sank beyond their reach. The cold seeped from the air and through her sleeping bag, chilling her damp clothes once more. She scooted closer to the dying embers of the campfire. Even the critters in the woods were silent. She thought about them freezing their asses off as well. Maybe the next day they would wake up to a deer icicle and get double the meat. That was considering she wouldn’t freeze to death tonight…

“I can see you shivering from here.” He said from across the way. 

“I’m asleep, fuck off.” She replied. 

She stayed in her sleeping bag shivering. She stayed until the slight heat from the coals of the campfire ebbed until she felt it no longer. The inside of her sleeping bag was damp now too. Any breeze or wind off the river seemed to slip through her sleeping bag as if it were made of mesh. She eventually rolled over and looked to Arthur. He seemed to be asleep, his sleeping bag was rising and falling slowly. 

“Fuck it.” She thought. She would prefer not to freeze to death right before they made it back to camp. Plus, she might get the chance to torment him some by sharing the sleeping bag. If she admitted it to herself, she had been craving his heat and his touch ever since the night before. Her heart had softened towards him throughout this trip. She had seen him joke and smile. She had seen him blush and embarrass himself. She had seen his caring when he taught her how to skin the deer. She had seen him make a killer shot with the rifle. She had seen his skill with starting campfires. She had seen his ineptitude at carving. She touched the antler he had given her where she had stored it in her pocket. Maybe the whole time she had been working herself up into hating him, it was because she hadn’t taken time to actually see him. Now that she had seen him, she had liked what she saw. 

She crept around the campsite as quietly as she could. She was barefoot, as her boots were propped up on a rock next to the campfire to dry. As she lifted the corner of his sleeping bag and slid in next to him he stirred. She must not have startled him too badly, he helped lift the bedroll so she could slide in next to him. Ugh, was the fool expecting this? He blinked, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. They were laying face to face, as far apart as she could get from him while still remaining under the covers. That stupid, sexy smirk was back on his face.

“Decided to finally mend bridges before you turned completely to ice?” He mumbled.

“Oh hush.” She whispered and pressed a cold hand to his neck.

“JESUS CHRIST WOMAN.” He startled. “You want some water with that ice?!?” His words were sharp but he covered her hand with his and held it to him, warming it. He was fully awake now, she could tell. The light from the moon was dim but she could still see his eyes as they looked at her. His even breath tickled her hair. She thought back to his panting from last night, coupled with his moans, right into the crook of her neck. She shivered at the thought. 

“Still cold?” He asked, seeing her tremble. 

“What the hell do you think?” She snapped. 

“I think if you weren’t still in damp clothes you could heat up quite a bit faster and not soak my bed in the process.” She started to reply and he interrupted her. “Now before you go bitin’ my head off, think of this, we’re both under here, I won’t see nothin’ you don’t want me to see. If you want, you can hang your clothes near the fire to dry. I promise I won’t look.” She thought about this for a moment. He seemed genuinely concerned, especially after he felt how cold her hand was. She trusted him that he wouldn’t look. But maybe she wanted him to… 

She retrieved her hand.  
“Okay.” She said and started unbuttoning her shirt. He dutifully shut his eyes (despite her being covered by his blanket anyway) and scooted as far away from her as he could. She looked at his face, eyes scrunched shut. He was a good man, as good as they come when you were with the men she was with. She slipped her shirt off of her shoulders. She started unbuttoning her trousers. When she hit the last button, she thought her final “Fuck it.” of the night. If they were going to return to business as usual when they got back to camp she at least wanted some memory of him to take back with her. Especially since she knew the only thing that had stood between them last night was the owl and his own nerves. She took his hand from his side and guided it to her cold chest.   
“What are you doing?” His eyes snapped open. She scooted closer to him, almost chest to chest. He was shocked sure, but his hand was still warm against her breast, he wasn’t attempting to move away either. She touched his cheek with an icy hand. That soft desperate voice from the night before was back. He could see a bare shoulder glowing in the moonlight. He could feel the peak of her nipple in the palm of his hand.

“Warm me up Arthur? Please?” 

How could he refuse when she asked so nicely? He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her flush to him. She was still cold, he could feel it through his shirt. She was kissing him back, hard, any hesitancy or gentle ease was cast aside. Her hands were against his chest, doing something. Unbuttoning his shirt, he realized. He smiled against her mouth, thinking that if they had remembered to remove their clothes last night, things might have gone differently. Her hands were cold, it felt nice. Particularly because he overheated as soon as she had begged him to warm her. Her hands reached the top of his jeans and unbuttoned them as well. She had deft fingers in the dark. Skilled fingers, especially as they tugged at the front of his waistband. Even more so as she stroked him through the front of his underwear. He groaned and she used the opportunity to slide her tongue into his mouth. She was insistent tonight, demanding, rushed. 

“Relax.” He murmured as he started pulling down her jeans as best he could. “There ain’t no owls out tonight.” 

She laughed, a bright sound that fell on his ears like the morning sun. Between getting tangled in the sleeping bag and the damp refusing to allow them to slide down her skin, removing her pants seemed an impossible feat. 

“Oh fuck it.” She said and flung the top blanket off of them. She started pushing down her pants and Arthur pulled off his own. He glanced over at her, she flung her pants and underwear down into the dirt. She grinned up at him and he was shaking his head.

“Impatient much?” He asked. He lay over her and covered them with the blanket. His hands started sliding over her bare body, familiarizing him with her curves, the angle of her hips, the softness of her thighs… She was so infuriating, he loved it. She wanted to irritate him? Well, now it was his turn to bother her. 

“Arthur…” She pleaded as he leaned over her again. “What are you doing?” Her cold hands touched his back and he flinched. 

“You asked me to warm you up, so that’s what I’m doin’.” He dropped his mouth to her collarbone. She hummed as his warm lips traced along her shoulders and collarbone, trailing kisses, then soft bites from his teeth, then kisses again. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, combing through it softly. He was propped up on one of his elbows, his other hand groping at her breast.

“Arthur c’mon, I want you.” Her hand left his hair to try and tug down his underwear. He grinned up at her. 

“Oh you want me now?” He asked softly in her ear. She nodded and his hand left her breast to stop her from pulling down his underwear any further. He pressed a kiss to the mark he had left the night prior on her neck. 

“Where?” He whispered into her ear. She shivered again, but not because of the cold.

“God, he wasn’t this talkative last night…” She thought, but hell if he didn’t seem to be trying to make her wet with his words. 

“Anywhere, Arthur please.” She said, raising her voice and lifting her hips, she needed contact. She needed to feel him hard against her, or even better, in her, immediately. 

“Anywhere? You’ll have to be a little more specific.” He chuckled as he pulled his hips away from hers. Her hand remained on his waistband. The other was still in his hair. He wondered if she noticed how hard he was from watching her writhe under him. 

“Arthur goddamn you, just fuck me.” She begged and wrapped her arms around his neck. She hated that she couldn’t make him do what she wanted. She hated that he intentionally wasn’t listening. She hated that she wanted him, so bad, right at that moment. 

“Hm. Okay, but keep your arms right there until I tell you to stop.” He instructed. The hand that had been preventing her of divesting him of his underwear was resting firmly on her hip. She nodded and arched her hips up to him again. Instead of pulling his underwear down he traced his hand down between her thighs. He slipped a finger into her and she let out a gasp

“That’s not what I-“ Her head fell back and her eyes shut as he added another. He slowly moved his fingers in and out of her, coaxing gasps from her when he curled his fingers. 

“I told you, you should have been more specific.” He leaned down to kiss her neck again. She hummed in approval of his movements. When he added his thumb to roll circles on her clit one of her hands left his neck to grab at the top of the bedding. 

“Arthur!” She gasped and her thighs flexed. She was moaning in time with the movement of his hand now, her hips rolling to meet where he touched her. She was panting now, and she had cast off the top of the blanket. He felt her tighten around her fingers and he withdrew his hand. 

“Warm now?” He asked and he saw her eyes open. She covered her eyes with her arm. 

“Arthur are you fucking kidding me? I’m going to tear you limb from limb for that. What kind of sick, sick man stops right before-Ohhhhh.” She moaned louder than he had heard her before when he entered her. Throughout her rant, she seemed not to notice when he pulled down his underwear and positioned himself between her legs. He rolled his hips slowly to hers. Her head was thrown back once more and her nails dug into his shoulders. He guided her legs up over his hips and bottomed out. He looked down at her, her chest was rising and falling fast. Her mouth was slightly open and her dark hair was spread out beneath her. There was a reason he had brought her almost there with his fingers. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last long with her underneath him, looking like that. Feeling like that. She was panting hard, nails still dug into his back. 

“Oh damn you Arthur Morgan, damn you.” She moaned. He chuckled. She was tight but slick. He thought about how he had missed this the night previous. If only he could go back in time and slap himself upside the head. He drew his hips back and pressed back into her slowly. She bit her lip to keep herself from making noise. 

“Come here.” He groaned and scooped her up to prop him up in his lap. He figured he would let her set the pace. As he would come no matter what. She opened her eyes to meet his. 

“Damn you.” She whispered and leaned in to kiss him. He brought his hands to her hips to remind her he was there. She rolled her hips against him and felt him moan in her mouth. He bucked up into her faster than she expected. Her lips left him to gasp his name into his ear. She steadied herself on his shoulders and ground her hips into him fast and rough. Any semblance of a plan, or of control evaporated from his mind. He was content to watch her, her hair framing her face as she rode him. She whimpered as he tightened his fingers into her flesh, she looked at him. 

“Arthur I’m close, I’m so close.” She pleaded. He knew what she was asking for and removed a hand from her hip to between her legs. She gasped as he resumed those tight fast circles with his thumb. Her head fell back and she began mumbling his name over and over and over again. He felt her tighten around him and he grunted his approval. 

“Come on then.” He coaxed, and she did. Her nails scratched down his back as she finally added her own mark to his body. The erratic jerking of her hips made him buck to meet her, chasing his own end between her legs. Her eyelids were half shut, her hair messy. She was still whispering his name softly. She slumped into him, her legs trembling with each roll of his hips. She was peppering weak kisses along his collar bone. 

“I-“ He groaned. “I-.” 

He stopped moving suddenly, she looked up at him with a questioning look on her face. 

“What?” She asked softly, kissing his cheek. There was nothing but adoration in her eyes.

“I-I see lanterns.” He said stunned, he was squinting into the distance. 

“What?” She asked. Her tone was firm now, she spoke in her regular voice. She turned to look behind her. They could hear yelling voices coming closer. 

“Oh shit.” She said, snapped out of her post-coital haze.

“Someone’s coming.” He said and pushed her off of him. They hastily reached for their clothes and started pulling them on. The lanterns were close, they could make out three figures on horses in the trees. She was frantically buttoning up her shirt, she didn’t want any strangers stumbling on them in the middle of. Well yeah. “Who’s there?” Arthur yelled into the trees, he had managed to get his pants on and had gone back to the rifle, aiming it at the tree line. 

“Arthur? Is that you?” Dutch’s voice yelled. Arthur lowered the rifle. 

“Yeah it’s me, we’re both over here.” Arthur said. They crashed through the trees, the light from the lanterns beginning to illuminate their makeshift camp. She got up to move back to her bedroll. She kicked Arthurs underwear into the bushes nearby, out of sight. 

“What’s going on?” Arthur asked as he shielded his eyes from the light. 

“They caught onto us, the laws comin’. We need to get back to the camp before they do.” Hosea said urgently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Arthur, It'll be his turn next time............


End file.
